


Shattered Veins & Golden Eyes

by Acxa_Kogane



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Court of Owls | Talon (DCU), Angst and Feels, Betrayal?, Court of Owls, Dark Tim Drake, Gen, Manipulative Tim Drake, Mystery, Sacrifice, Talon fic, Tim Drake Angst, lying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:01:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24746506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acxa_Kogane/pseuds/Acxa_Kogane
Summary: “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Timothy Drake-Wayne.” The talon mask hid the whitened face of William Cobb, but Tim knew that smirking tone all too well. “Coming back into the fold, I presume?”Deep breath. Remember the plan. “William,” his voice was calm, practiced smoothness, “I see you accepted my invitation.”
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & William Cobb
Comments: 12
Kudos: 46





	1. Silenced Flame

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I realize I need to update May Mayhem. I'm still recovering from hand surgery, but this fic has been written for exactly a year, so I thought I might as well post what I do have. Enjoy >:D

Things change. They always change. Shadows cast by the light of the flickering candle of life, easily blown out in a moment, leaving only a blackened thread behind. Charred remains mar ashen white fingers, ever so graceful. The dark smudge left unnoticed among black veins shattered across such beautiful hands – for they were beautiful. Cold as ice, delicate in deadly efficiency, smooth as a shadow cast once and gone, leaving nothing but silence in its wake. Silence, crooned the white owl's feather, _silence._

~~~

Only elegant dresses whispered here, silken folds falling gently, swishing across smooth stone. The silence murmured but not a mouth spoke. Smooth owl masks with their gaping dark openings, soulless eyes soundless in judgement.

"We are gathered here to witness the rising of a new Talon."

A thrill of excitement swept the people, watching eagerly. Then light landed on the white skin emerging from the gaping black entrance. Phantom footsteps resounded in the round room, their silent fall as pale as the skin beneath the shadow-hued suit. Golden eyes gazed flatly out into the crowd – soul stripped from them as perfectly as the dark, blank eyes staring back. 

"And with it – the rising of the Court of Owls."

~~~

"Batman, the Court just had the Whitmers _and_ Johnsons murdered."

"Hm."

"A white owl feather at every scene, just like the other nine. No other evidence. A perfect murder. But..."

"What?"

"Cobb's 5'8". The angle of the blade's trajectory is equivalent to someone who's 5'5"."

"...They have a new Talon."

"No... don't tell me they..."

"..."

"...no ...please... no..."

~~~

Dick had known the Court was following him. When did they ever stop? They wanted him. And when had they ever settled for less than what they wanted? 

(Never. The answer is never.)

He'd given them a run for their money, but they'd been persistent. Tracking him for months on end, showing up on his patrols – he'd slipped away from them each time, but he didn't tell B. The Court had made it clear. Tell Batman, and he's a target. 

_...speak not a whispered word..._

But he wasn't willing to get kidnapped by the Court and leave his family hanging. So he told one person. And now, looking at his current situation, he was glad he did.

The undead assassin lunged at him from the shadows and he knew he wouldn't have time. Silver flashed in the moonlight. He felt a sharp pressure in his neck. Everything went black.

~~~

Blood dripped from the edge of its knife. It wiped it away on the rag. It wouldn't do to leave evidence. The rag could be properly disposed of later. 

The target was taking a long time to die. The target tried to roll over onto its side to keep from drowning on the blood from the slit in its throat. That was unacceptable.

The knife slid cleanly through the target's ribs and punctured the heart. Now the knife was bloody. The first cleaning had been unnecessary. Unnecessary was unacceptable.

The target stopped moving two minutes later, still next to the second target. 

Objective 2: Complete. Targets eliminated.

~~~

Barbara was going to kill Dick. How dare he not tell them the Court was after him. Not tell _her._ That's what led to situations like this.

"Tim," she pressed, "What do you _mean_ Cobb isn't there. We just had them on the monitor."

"I think they entered the labyrinth. There should be an entrance nearby..."

"...Do I want to know why you know this?" She shook herself. That wasn't important. What was important was getting Dick back. 

"Well, I-"

"Never mind that. Just tell me you're gonna be able to find them." 

Tim's suit cam showed the young hero's descent into a dark tunnel a few moments later. "Pretty sure I'm gonna find them. One way or another. I mean," the com crackled a bit, "this could all be a trap." 

The screens went black.

~~~

“Memory, you see, is just the connection of synapses in the brain in specific ways. The synapses that fire together, fuse together. And the thicker the connection, the stronger it is.”

The owl mask showed no emotion, but the tilt of it showed the young wearer’s interest in the presented information.

“The beauty is in the plasticity. The mind is always changing, always adapting. This is what allows us to break the connections we choose, while maintaining the functionality of the organ. It’s also what allows us to create the connections we desire after the initial memory wipe.”

There was no question asked, but the speaker understood it all the same.

“That initial wipe is what surges all the synapses to fuse and smooth out into the blank canvas we need.” The hint of a smile entered the neurologist’s voice. “Simply, it resets the subject’s brain to that of a two year old’s. The pruning of _unnecessary_ things such as any lingering memories and learned emotional responses is then completed, and the programming inserted through fine electroshock therapy until the subject’s mind has fit to the mold. Additional strengthening of any other helpful skills or attributes is done, before the final psychological steps are taken to ensure the subject will perform as programmed.”

The quiet footsteps approached the table, looking down onto the figure laying there.

“It is truly quite magnificent what we have discovered about the brain and it’s ... _flexibility._ ” 

Flat blue eyes stared up from the pale face of the dead body. The young owl followed, head tilted slightly as it studied the young corpse. 

Gloved fingers reached to cradle the cold cranium, rocking the head to the side a bit and disturbing some of the tousled black hair. 

“It is a bit of a shame this one is being reprogrammed. I heard it was quite the biological wonder in it’s day.” Skilled fingers probed the skull, almost as if looking for an opening by which they could pull the contained organ out. “What I would have given to dissect a marvel like this, cut it apart bit by bit and peel back the layers of genius.” 

The man gazed in fascinated desire a moment longer, eyes peering through the bone to the folds and creases of the brain below. Then he laughed, dropping the head a half inch back onto the table. It lolled to the side limply, black hair splaying onto the table at the impact. “But no matter. Perhaps a mind of that caliber will adapt to the programming better than any other.”

Taking a step closer to the body, the young owl studied it curiously, each feature examined and memorized once more. 

The two moved towards the door, the elder guiding the younger out. “After all, this new Gray Son will be the crowning glory of the Court of Owls.”

The door closed solidly, the sound reverberating in the room. The pale corpse left to lay there alone, glassy, ice blue eyes staring unseeing into nothing.

~~~

The moment Tim dropped into that dark, cold tunnel, he knew the chances he’d make it out were increasingly getting slimmer by the second. Barbara was on the other end of his com link, her questions were going unanswered until they crackled into static. Though there was a good reason for that. That reason being the sickle sharp talon was caressing the exposed skin under his jaw. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Timothy Drake-Wayne.” The talon mask hid the whitened face of William Cobb, but Tim knew that smirking tone all too well. “Coming back into the fold, I presume?”

Deep breath. Remember the plan. “William,” his voice was calm, practiced smoothness, “I see you accepted my invitation.” 


	2. An Invitation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will be jumping around the timeline a bit here at the beginning. The previous chapter already had scenes not in chronological order and this one follows a similar pattern, just confined to the space of a week. 
> 
> At the moment, the ~~~ is used to indicate all these sections as happening at different parts of time, some of them out of order. When things settle into a chronological sequence, I will likely switch to using line breaks and save the ~~~ for when there's a switch of a scene chronologically, indicating the scene is likely a flashback. 
> 
> Normally I wouldn't add a note to explain this, but due to the complex nature of the fic at this moment, I thought it would reduce confusion to just let you know that these are not in chronological order.

Barbara watched the static screen in tense silence. Tim's com had turned into the crackle of a connection lost. Her heart threatened to jump into her throat with every beat. 

Nothing.

Nothing.

A minute passed. Then two. Then three.

She had already sent Bruce to his position. He would arrive in three minutes, speeding through the streets as fast as he could. _Tim was taking on a Talon on his own. The connection was cut. Dick was-_

The crackle turned into a cough. Her heart skipped a beat. 

Then the video feed from Tim's mask came back online, flickering in and out as he appeared to lift himself from the manhole. 

"Tim??"

There was a series of coughs. Then a voice crackled across the line. 

"Yeah. I'm here. It's me." He sounded a bit off. 

"Is Dick-" She couldn't finish the sentence, voice catching in her throat. "Just tell me you found him. _Please."_

_If he hadn't... oh lord..._

"Yeah. I've got him. He's alive...." 

The tension drained from her shoulders and she slumped back into her chair, relaxing in relief. _He's alive. He's alive. **alive.**_ She almost missed the undertones of worry in Tim's tone. 

Almost. 

She sat back up, a bit of tension running through her again. "What's wrong?"

Tim's camera cleared fully as he hefted Dick out of the hole, laying the unconscious man on the ground. "Well." He collapsed back onto his elbows, legs hanging over the manhole edge for a moment before dragging himself up and moving to check Dick's vitals and for injures. "The person we were chasing _wasn't_ the Court." 

"What?!"

"Yeah, I was surprised as well. But it wasn't Cobb." 

Dick whimpered quietly, face twisted up in pain. Babs frowned and checked Bruce's arrival time. Two minutes.

"Who was it?"

There was rustling on the other end of the com as Tim removed a small dart from Dick's neck, turning it over in his hands. "One of Crane's henchmen. They were wearing all black with orange tinted safety goggles above the new style of gas masks. I'm betting this is fear toxin. It looks a lot like the darts Crane was using two years ago when he tried out the concentrated fear toxin injections." He put the dart in a bag, careful not to touch the point, even with his gloved hands. 

Dick was shaking, curling in on himself a bit as the toxin ran through his bloodstream. Tim continued. "It looks like it's a gradual reaction, probably with a numbing agent cause he didn't notice the dart to remove it. They probably hit him with it right before he called in, it would explain his erratic patrol pattern and saying the Court was after him. A black mask and orangey-yellow lenses is plenty enough to get an already paranoid Nightwing to hallucinate the Court was after him again. If this toxin is also mixed with a sedative that works faster due to the victim's increased heart rate, his sudden drowsiness and then radio silence makes sense."

She nodded, having come to the same conclusions on her own, despite hardly being able to think through the relief. Dick was alive. He was okay. Well, fear toxin dosed, but _alive._ _The Court of Owls wasn't coming after them. Not again._ "That's good. B will be there to pick you three up in a minute." Thankfully the Batmobile had extra space for captured henchmen. 

Tim coughed awkwardly. "Yeah, um. The guy got away. He was trying to use the sewer system. Saw me coming and dropped 'Wing to run. I would have pursued, but Nightwing was starting to get worse. I had to stop and give him CPR..." a frown entered his voice, "I'm sorry, Babs. I should have been better."

She brushed him off. "Don't worry about it, Tim. You did the best you could. Thank you." _Thank you so much._ "We can track Crane down later. B's a street away." 

"Copy that." There was a moment. "Babs... thanks. Just for everything. It's nice to know someone who actually cares is on the line." A smile entered his voice. "Way better than any old GPS or computer system."

She laughed. "Thanks, Tim."

"No problem, Babs."

The batmobile roared around the corner as Tim looked up. She collapsed back into her chair fully and let out a long breath of relief. The threat had passed. It wasn't the Court. Bruce was there. _Dick was alive._

Batman stepped out of the batmobile, racing over to his sons and lifting the limp, _living_ Dick into the back seat. They were safe. _Safe._

She closed her eyes, relaxing for a moment to calm her racing heart. 

She didn't pay attention to the quick conversation between Bruce and Tim. She didn't see when Bruce entered the car alone and drove off. _Dick was alive. That was all that mattered._

~~~

Damian was not concerned. 

It had been three days since Grayson had interacted with one of Crane's henchmen and been strongly drugged. He was still unconscious and suffering from intense nightmares. 

Father and Gordon had analyzed the dart Drake had delivered to Father. It had previously been filled with an unfamiliar sedative and a concentrated dose of fear toxin. Due to this combination, they were still unable to wake Grayson. 

Damian was not concerned. 

Grayson had survived much worse before. This was just a dose of fear toxin. 

Just a dose of fear toxin. 

Nothing to fear. 

~~~

Scarecrow was working on a new toxin, this time mixed with some of Ivy's pheromones, when the henchman outside his lab started to argue. Loudly. 

Biting back a growl, he set his chemicals down, careful not to disturb his notes, and stalked out into the hallway, slamming the door open loudly. 

"What," he hissed at the arguing men, "is your problem!"

The shorter one cowered in the face of his anger. A newcomer. "Sorry, sir. I was just telling Phillips about-" he swallowed, "the disappearance of the prototype dart." 

He turned to the taller one, snapping slightly. "What. Prototype. Did you lose." 

"It was a small dart. One of the high-force ones you designed to take out the Red Hood for experimentation a few months ago before he skipped town."

Crane hummed lowly, the sound hissing through his mask. "Are there others remaining?"

"Yes, sir," the younger answered. "There are still two others. Whoever took it only took one and checked it out properly."

"Good. Find whoever took one of them, if they were one of ours. And prepare the others to be used. If the _Bat_ got ahold of one, they won't be much use anymore." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Now _stop shouting."_ He shut the door hard, the metal clang ringing loudly through the warehouse.

~~~

A week had passed. She was making a cup of tea when she got the text. It was from Bruce.

_He's awake._

She didn't even wait forty-seven seconds longer for the tea to finish before racing out the house. 

~~~

The edge of Cobb's talon lingered against his unprotected skin. If he had been any less trained, he might have shivered at the cold, sharp sensation. 

_Remember the plan._

"William," he smiled, sharp as the blade below his chin, "I see you accepted my invitation."

The Talon watched him impassively from behind the mask. "You were the one to set this up." The blade pressed a little deeper into his skin, not quite enough to cut, but close. "Why."

So many questions in that simple word. _Why should I trust you? Why would you betray the bats? Why shouldn't I slit your throat now? Why do you think I won't take you as well as your brother? Why would you work with us?_

His smile grew, cold and amused. A real smile. Not the fake one he stretched across his face for the public and people who cared to see.

"Well, William, to put it simply, if you take Nightwing, the Court of Owls will fall." He cocked his head loosely. "Not even the Owls can stand under the combined force of all the heroes Batman would call to eliminate you. The Justice League would be breaking down your doors before you even had the chance to preserve his body."

Cobb watched him for a long moment before lowering the talon. "When did the Court of Owls become something you have interest in preserving, _Red Robin?_ "

" _Timothy Drake,_ William." His voice dropped to something darker, something dangerous. " _Red Robin_ has no need for the Court of Owls, but I do believe that the Drake family owes the Court a debt. I am here to pay the price." 

Cobb was skeptical, anticipating a trap. 

Tim looked over to where Nightwing lay, half propped against the tunnel wall, dirty water soaking into his suit. He looked back to Cobb, meeting the golden eyes through the lenses. "Trust me on this, and I will not only give you what you want, but I will keep the bats out of your affairs long enough for you to achieve it."

The Talon made no response.

Tim smiled, a dark, humorless thing. "I was one of them, once. If there's anyone in the world who can control Batman and his brood, it's me. Allow me to proceed with my plan and you will have what you want. Deny me, and the Court will be beaten into the ashes by every hero on earth. Kill me," he let a small laugh slip past his lips, tilting his head in a silent challenge to the older man. He spoke softly, calmly, as if the world would obey his every word,

"Kill me and before the sun rises, the Court of Owls will be nothing but a nursery rhyme." 

**Author's Note:**

> Heheheheheheheheh


End file.
